Darcy Recounts
by izzydarchester
Summary: Moments from the story in Darcy's perspective, beginning right before he encounters Elizabeth at Pemberley. Rating subject to change. Update 14 February 2019: Hiatus until further notice.
1. Chapter 1

The thunder clapped heavily in his ear. His clothes stuck to him, soaked and dripping onto the stone floor, but he hardly had the attention for it. He could not tell if the shiver running down his spine was his body's natural reaction to the chilling wind that cut through him or if it was induced by the intense glare that came from the most alluring creature he had ever encountered as she stood meekly before him. She was surprised to see him, jumping away from the wall she sought purchase against when she noticed him standing fixed to his place. She had hardly lowered into a short, polite curtsy before he began passionately, "Miss Elizabeth, I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer." He swallowed hastily and continued. "These past months have been a torment. I came to Rosings with the single object of seeing you – I had to see you..." he heard his voice trail off, and yet his lips still formed words. The low hum that now came from him was unintelligible. In front of him, her face contorted from one expression to the next – confusion, then shock, and then... a smile peeked from the corner of her mouth. "You have bewitched me body and soul. Just one thought of you and my heart hammers restlessly. To know you would be my utmost joy. To love you is my daily happiness. Please do me the honor of accepting my hand – marry me, Elizabeth." They stood inches apart suddenly. His hand rose slowly to frame her face, the other wrapping gently around her waist. She gazed back at him reverently, a look of gentle sweetness that illuminated her eyes. Her hands rested delicately on his shoulders as she reached up to whisper softly against his ear, "I will."

Just as he was a breath away from her kiss, he awoke in a cold sweat.

Another morning dawned on a restless night, but Darcy could hardly say he was not by now accustomed to it. Elizabeth had been the foremost topic of his dreams over the last pain-staking months and tonight was of no different fate. Though this time, he thought he almost felt her lips crash sweetly against his just as he was forced into consciousness. How cruel could one's own imagination be? Of course, his proposal had not gone so wonderfully in real life as it had in his dream; she had rejected him point blank. And he deserved it, he knew. How could he expect to be responded to with fervor when he so blatantly insulted her? And he actually thought he was doing justice by relating the difficulty of his situation. He would not have this newfound self-awareness had she not called attention to what he would not see – his arrogance and distain were offensive enough traits and, because he absolutely _had_ to continue to insult her by defending his manner of offering, to that arrogance and disdain he only added conceit. If he had any glimmer of hope at all, it was lost when he began his abominable speech. How had he not see her disapproval before? True, he had noticed her apprehension toward him, but being of his rank and position... No, there he caught himself again. His arrogance in assuming she would be honored by his offer, that she would be flattered by a man of his station offering to a girl so beneath him. But in truth, he now believed, he could not be more beneath her. Over and over again, he chastised himself for such poor execution, for single-handedly ruining any chance of winning happiness with her at his side. It had been hard to go on day by day, secretly wanting her, needing her. But now that one chance had been wasted away, and he was unsure how much more his heart could bear.

His anxieties strained further when he remembered his letter. Good God, that letter! The look on her face when she took it from his hand was enough to break his heart. He did not know if she would truly read it and if she did, he was even more unsure of what she would then think of him if she did at all. But in this state of desperation, the sun slowly beginning to peek over the distant horizon, he hoped she had read it and regarded him in some brighter light than she had before. He meditated softly, silently praying she was finding more peace in life than he was currently, then dressed himself in preparation to depart, leaving the rest of his party behind.


	2. Chapter 2

There was no better retreat than Pemberley Park. In truth, there was no other escape in the world that Darcy preferred to his country home, nestled in the valley of two rolling peaks and it's wilderness situated happily about it. Though he felt some guilt in leaving his sister behind with the rest of their party, he rejoiced in being so warmly welcomed by the perfect picture ahead of him. He paused atop the hill overlooking his property before kicking his horse to canter ahead. He approached the front of the house oblivious to the empty carriage that sat idly in the drive, only taking notice to it before dismounting, and handing the bridle to the awaiting stable boy, he turned to see a figure so strikingly familiar, he almost thought his heart had stopped beating altogether. There she stood, her skirts fluttering in the gentle summer breeze, the ribbons of her bonnet untied and blowing freely. Their eyes met in an instant and he only caught the flush of her cheeks as she instinctively turned away. He advanced immediately, his legs operating on their own accord to carry him to the person whom he felt such a passionate attachment to. She only turned to him again once his footsteps drew near, keeping her eyes down and away to avoid the unfamiliar look he was giving her. They met with pointed formality.

"Mr. Darcy, please allow me to apologize for importuning on your privacy," she then started hastily, "I wouldn't ha- _we_ would not have dreamt of..." She paused, not knowing how to continue in her overwhelming embarrassment, but he calmly reassured her.

"Pray, do not trouble yourself; I had planned to arrive tomorrow, but rode ahead of my party on business, with my steward." He only hesitated at the thought of the true reason he rode ahead. Having her standing so close to him once more had his mind racing; it was hard to manage one coherent thought. She did not move to reply. She kept her gaze away, searching for any other thing to rest her eyes on besides his impossibly striking stare.

"I trust your parents are in good health," he found himself saying.

"Yes, they are, thank you."

"And your sisters?"

"They are in excellent health, sir." Her thumbs made circles around each other as she kept her fingers laced in front of her. He wanted nothing more than to hold those hands, to soothe her of any discomfort she felt, though he knew the root of her discomfort was almost definitely his sudden presence.

"How long have you been in this part of the country, Miss Bennet?"

"About two days, sir."

"And where are you staying?"

"At the inn, at Lambton."

"Oh, yes, of course." A straining pause ensued. Had he not been praying for another opportunity such as this, promising himself if the chance arose he would not stammer and loom about her as he had in their previous acquaintance? And now he stood with her, almost completely silent, giving her no outward inclination to continue conversation or that he was taking immense pleasure in her company. He only stood motionless, watching her face as her skin continued to flush pink, thinking to himself how simply wonderful it would be to gently graze that cheek with the pad of his finger.

After some moments, she explained she was in the country with her aunt and uncle and that they were just beyond with the housekeeper finishing their round about the garden. He offered her sanctuary in the house while she waited, but embarrassment would not leave her, and so she insisted she wait out on the lawn. He stood with her to wait as the elder couple made their return to the front of the house, lead by the gracious Mrs. Reynolds. He introduced himself with as much politeness as he could demonstrate; praising Derbyshire with Mrs. Gardiner as it was mutually her home county, and conversing with Mr. Gardiner on their shared interest in fishing. Elizabeth took this time to finally look up at his face, watching him interact with her most beloved kin. She had never seen him act with such ease and politeness. He was everything a gentleman to the Gardiners and herself - even his countenance had taken on an essence of tranquility she had never detected. And what was the meaning of it? Surely, it was not for her after she had insulted him so robustly to his face in their last meeting months before. She had not thought for one moment that he would take her words to heart, that he would mull everything she had said to him over and over again in his thoughts. Every remark she had made tortured him to no end with no hope of reconciliation or relief. But now, he took this chance meeting as an opportunity for redemption.

As the head gardener of the estate approached them, he turned quietly to Mrs. Reynolds, suggesting they take the most advantageous tour of the park around the lake, then took his leave to return to the house to change out of his traveling clothes. He made haste up each staircase, taking them two at a time in his long stride. He knew he had ample time enough to make himself as presentable as he wished to be and meet them again if he did not waste a single moment. He had not even called for his valet and quickly changed without assistance, darting back down the halls as he finished the buttons of his coat and skipping down the stairs in his eagerness. A hand combed through his hair as he sped out of the entry, scanning the perimeter of the lake for a sign of their whereabouts. He spotted them, just making their approach to the halfway point at the other end of the lake. He would reach them faster if he took the opposite direction.

It was obvious Elizabeth had not expected to see him again, for as he advanced from the trees that hid his approach, she started at the sight of him, only recovering with her face turned away, her hands clutching her bonnet in front of her. How very strange it was to see her act so. His Elizabeth, who so rarely held back from speaking her fearless mind, was acting with timidity and shyness. When her eyes finally lifted to his, he was not met with their usual resilience, but was instead greeted with an insecurity he could not place. He knew she was struggling with composure, but from what? From pure hatred? No, he would have seen that apprehension from the first as he had when he handed her his letter. What was it that haunted her thoughts now? There was feeling in that look, he decided, that she had never bestowed on him before, though he could not place it, and yet there remained that sparkle, that hint of mischief in her eye that always glimmered after a witty remark or when a smile could be seen peeking from her lips...

"I hope you are not displeased with Pemberley," he said to her after formally greeting the party once more.

"Indeed, I am not," Elizabeth looked up to him then, as they fell into step in front of the others. "It is very beautiful, Mr. Darcy."

"So you approve of it, then?"

"I doubt there would be many who would not approve."

"But your good opinion is rarely bestowed, and therefore, more worth the earning." He complimented her in such a tender tone she had never heard, a gentle smile on his face she had never seen, that her cheeks again began to flush, and she turned away. He had hardly heard her murmur in response a soft, "Thank you." They walked on toward the house, some moments not saying a word, but when they did make an exchange, it was with the utmost politeness and, on his part, tenderness – even if she did not detect that effort at the very first. Though he would do anything to prove himself and change her opinion of him, he knew that like him, her opinion was not an easy one to sway; he would be lucky indeed to find that she had ceased to loathe him. But she responded to him so differently now, he could not place her feelings as he could before– no, he never could place her feelings. That assumption had lead him to the very predicament he was in, he reminded himself.

They made it to the house ahead of the rest of their party; each with an avid passion for walking, their pace had been set at a considerably faster stride without their conscious attention to it, and they found themselves once again standing on the front lawn, their postures fixed straight and rigid as their minds scrambled for how to behave around the other. Darcy again inquired if she wanted to take rest in the house, to which she again politely refused, and once more they were ensconced in their silence. Quiet as they were, Elizabeth found he would not stop looking for her eyes; in his she saw his desire to speak, of what she did not know, but the look of them was unmistakeable. His lips parted for a moment as he contemplated what he wanted to say, her eyes riveting to them unconsciously. He thought to himself as he drank in her sight, that he had never beheld anything more beautiful than her picture in that moment. She stood as she did before; her skirts fluttering, the shortest tendrils of her hair whisking around her face, and her eyes staring up at him – bright with exercise and curiosity. His heart raced against his chest, beating wildly, his thoughts clouded. All of his entire world's focus was on her, and she glowed gloriously in the summer sun.


	3. Chapter 3

_I just wanted to take a moment and thank those who left reviews. I just went back and did a quick edit of the first two chapters, just spelling and grammar errors - I'm usually pretty hasty when editing so do forgive me if I miss a few mistakes here and there. I'll get to them eventually, especially if you point them out to me. This story is something I am working on presently just for fun, mainly little one shots I make up that work together to make this a story. I hope to continue to please with this one. Happy reading and thank you again for the reviews!_

* * *

The image never left his mind; not after Elizabeth and the Gardiners had departed (and he would not let them leave without his invitation to tea the next day), not after he had greeted his sister and the Bingleys well into the evening, and not after he had retired for the night to the sanctuary of his chambers. That picture of her standing so sweetly on his lawn and looking at him with that expression resembled the materialization of a dream. And how demurely she presented herself! Whether she knew it or not, she only catered to Darcy's passionate admiration and she left him in an even deeper wanting of her refreshing company. Her eyes wide and doe-like as she looked up to him after he complimented her; he had never seen her so. How the sun danced in her hair on the lawn, the shimmering contrasts of its dark, luscious color truly exposed in mid-day's light, and how perfectly well she looked altogether, despite that curious expression he could not place. What was he to do? How do you save a hopeless man from a love he had no chance of achieving?

Darcy loomed over the mantel of his fireplace, pacing for a few moments, then returning. Sleep, he knew, would not come easy. No, her image would remain in his mind's eye, keeping his thoughts racing, his heart pounding. Tomorrow was a chance he could only have dreamed of and she had agreed to his invitation with such a happy expression, he almost allowed himself to hope a little more. Another chance to show her he was no longer what he was, another chance to see her again in his home, another chance to make her smile at him the way she had when he handed her into her carriage. She had squeezed his fingers before lingering on their release, their eyes never breaking. He wanted to show her nothing but admiration, remedy all that he had done for that one little smile. Oh, he dared not hope this much; he could not bear it to build himself up too high. A second failure would be devastation. After seeing her again and on the fine cut grass of his front lawn, there could never be another woman in her place. Should he never marry her, he shall never marry. That was that, and Darcy had come to these terms decidedly. But he could not think about the very prospect of never having her. For now, he was happily occupied with the image in his head and the glass of wine that helped that image sink into his dreams.

* * *

"Your guests for the evening have arrived, sir," Mrs. Reynolds snapped him out of his daydream. He turned away from Georgiana, who sat in front of him at the pianoforte. He could feel the color in his face draining, expressing outward distress rather than the pure excitement he felt. The others in the room had their eyes searchingly on him.

"Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds. You may escort them here." His posture went straight and rigid as he watched the old housekeeper leave once more. With a side glance to Georgiana, he could see she understood his feelings. She gave him a small, but reassuring smile and stood to stand with him, her arm curling under his delicately. He remained unmoved, only lifting his elbow enough for Georgiana to fit her arm through. His eyes remained on the door.

Had Georgiana not given his arm a knowing squeeze, he might not have remembered to stop holding his breath as the door reopened and Mrs. Reynolds returned, leading Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, and Elizabeth following after them with her hands clasped politely in front of her. Darcy immediately stepped forward, Georgiana followed diligently, and greeted them with a formal bow.

"Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner;" he said, then turning and releasing his sister's arm, "good evening, Miss Bennet." Elizabeth curtsied with a suppressed grin that matched the one on Darcy's face.

"Mr. Darcy, thank you once more for your generous invitation," she said.

"I thank you once more for so graciously accepting," he could not help but smile now. "Please allow me to introduce to you my sister, Georgiana." His sister stepped forward and they curtsied to one another.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Darcy."

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss Bennet," Georgiana replied. "My brother has told me so much of you, I feel as if we are friends already." Darcy looked to her sharply then, noticing the two ladies seated had looked to Georgiana then wide-eyed.

"Oh, thank you," Elizabeth said with a genuine smile. "Though I am sure your brother has perjured himself most profusely and exaggerated my qualities."

"That could not be so; my brother tells the absolute truth, except perhaps he is a little too generous to me."

"An ideal elder brother, then."

"Oh, yes. I could not imagine a better or a kinder one." They both looked to him then as he watched them with a most serene smile on his face. It was at this moment that Mr. Bingley and Mr. Hurst joined them from the billiards room.

Mr. Bingley then reacquainted himself with Elizabeth and introduced himself to the Gardiners – Mr. Hurst had chosen to take an immediate seat and separate himself from the rest of the room. It was suggested after some time that they take a tour of the grounds before sitting for dinner and Darcy found himself conveniently paired with Elizabeth as they walked under the ascending twilight – his sister had taken the arms of Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley and kept them at a comfortable distance ahead of them, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner walking with Bingley just ahead of the ladies, and Mr. Hurst left back at the house, asleep in his arm chair. He and Elizabeth walked considerably slower than the others, keeping behind the group ahead of them a comfortable distance, and it was in this semi-solitude that they began to converse more comfortably than they ever had before. They talked briefly of how gorgeous the day had been, of books they had read recently and their favorites, of which they had mutual titles. As he had known, she was an avid reader, eager to enrich her mind in all kinds of literature; as he had guessed, she loved visiting the country with her aunt and uncle and wanted to see more of the world outside the boundaries she had reached. She spoke of her kin with loyalty and absolute adoration, though she admitted they had plenty of their faults about them with a chuckle. Darcy laughed with her, relishing the sweet sound that broke from her lips; though he would never make her love him, he could give her his devoted friendship. He would be anything she wanted.

At dinner, she had been placed to his right and they continued much of their conversation during dinner, as well as keeping up with the conversations of the table. If they had to pause their interaction, Elizabeth would betray a moment of disappointment in her eye before glancing to the rest of the table and joining the majority. When she turned back to him, she would smile brightly and carry on with great pleasure. She looked directly into his eyes when she spoke to him, listening intently to each response he gave and she continued to look at him curiously as she had the previous day, that mixture of emotion he was presently blind to. Her dark pools of deep amber hardly strayed away from his eyes; he could see somewhere in her gaze that she was measuring him and he hoped against his odds that she now had a more favorable view of his character. If only he could absolutely assure her how deeply she moved him, how he had memorized every word she had said to him and had come to humbly agree with her; could he but prove how fervently he loved her and would do anything to secure her happiness. He knew his train of thought was showing through his features; Elizabeth's smile began to fade as she checked over his countenance with quick eyes.

"Mr. Darcy, are you well?" she inquired in between statements.

"Quite well, I thank you," Darcy insisted. "Pray, continue." He took note that she hesitated, worrying her bottom lip as she glanced over him once more, then continued on with her statement. The small action had his lips forming a charming grin, one Elizabeth found suited him _very_ amiably. He thought it must be giving him away, that his outward display of perfect happiness was surely the thing to betray to Elizabeth his very present, very passionate love for her (if she hadn't already guessed he still felt such feelings), but if it was, she showed no sign of apprehension, no hint of disgust or distaste – she was all loveliness and especially sweet towards him.

Her attention was stollen from him after dinner when she walked arm-in-arm with his sister into the drawing room, having agreed to accompany Georgiana for a duet on the pianoforte. The party had situated itself about the room as the ladies prepared which piece they would perform. Darcy had just taken his seat at the end of a settee when Georgiana began to play. He had only ever heard Elizabeth perform on the pianoforte, never had he heard her sing, but as she took a breath, her chest rising elegantly, and he heard the first notes escape in her tone, he thought that perhaps he had never heard anything more beautiful. He stared openly at her as she sang in a soft, pure soprano that wrapped around his heart and filled his ears with such wonder. Whatever mind he had paid to his other guests was completely forgotten. All that existed for him in that moment was the music and Elizabeth. Her eyes followed the words along the page as she sang steadily, timing her breaths with the music, turning the page for Georgiana when the time came. She sang with expression and feeling, allowing herself to be distracted only when she made a mistake or two, and then she would smile and try not to laugh in between notes. She was perfect and he had no place ever believing otherwise.


	4. Chapter 4

"How very ill Eliza Bennet looked this evening," Miss Bingley started on haughtily as she took her place next to her sister, Mr. Darcy having re-entered after seeing Miss Bennet and the Gardiners to their carriage. It was not a surprise that she had hardly waited a moment after Elizabeth's departure to indulge in her criticisms, though it tired Darcy ruthlessly – the constant effort to put herself in his favor only served to push her further away from it, and her open dislike of Elizabeth Bennet did not benefit her cause. "She is grown so brown and corse; Louisa and I were just agreeing how we should hardly know her, wouldn't you agree, Darcy?"

"I noticed no great difference," he replied, not looking away from the wine he poured himself. "She was, perhaps, a little tan, but that is to be expected when traveling in summer."

"Oh, but I must confess I never saw any beauty in her," Miss Bingley persisted. Darcy fought to prevent himself from rolling his eyes as he moved silently to the mantel, glancing momentarily to Mr. Bingley to express his growing frustration. His friend answered his glance with a sympathetic expression. "Her complexion holds no brilliancy, and her features are not at all handsome. In her air altogether, there is a self-sufficiency without fashion, which is intolerable." Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst took great pleasure in their censure, snickering and conspiring together on their settee. Darcy knew he was being baited into agreeing with her, that she believed her opinion so high, it should influence his own. Could she be so blind to his obvious distaste of her petty insults? How incredibly childish it was to speak so, and equally vexing was the motive behind it all. He furrowed his brow as he struggled to stay silent. "I particularly remember, Mr. Darcy, your saying one night, ' _She_ a beauty! - I should as soon call her mother a wit.' But afterwards, she seemed to improve on you; dare I say, I believe you thought her rather pretty at one time."

"Yes," Darcy said, resolutely. "Indeed, that was only when I first knew her, but it has been many months since I have considered her one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance." He rose then, having the great satisfaction of seeing the horrified look on Miss Bingley's face as he strode through the room and took his leave. _Insufferable woman!_ he thought as he seethed up the stairs. _Conceited, childish, loathsome woman – every word of her reproof, a reflection of her own jealousy and indulged self-confidence._ He reached his chamber, relieving himself of his cravat, jacket and waistcoat. One window at the far end of the room was opened, a fire crackling softly on the hearth; the mixtures of the fire's musk and Pemberley's rich pines refreshed his senses. He inhaled deeply the fresh, untainted atmosphere as he dropped himself into his arm chair, leaning forward toward the blaze in front of him. _How poorly Miss Bingley calculated her efforts this evening,_ Darcy grinned to himself. _Her sentiments could not have been more opposite to mine._ Indeed, Elizabeth acquired a new shade of brilliance on her travels, but it had only served to compliment her complexion; her features, though he would admit not conventionally beautiful, were as handsome as they had ever been, if not more so when illuminated by the afternoon's sun or the fluttering flames of candlelight. And her "self-sufficiency"? Yes, she possessed that independence, but she was sensible, perfectly polite, and her wit was matched with equal intelligence – _her_ conversation kept him interested. She had not the regal elegance that Miss Bingley considered made a woman admirable, but her elegance had it's own regency, unlike that of the conventional, for was it not that look about her that drew him in from the first? She was so much her own person, his most beloved Elizabeth. Oh, but she would never _be_ his. She had said once she did not love him, that she even despised him - those sentiments did not seem as very present as they were three months prior, but he could not so readily believe her opinion of him had improved. And yet, this evening, that intriguing look persisted, there was a closeness between them that was unmistakeable – had she not felt it? Was he imposing that energy upon her by assuming they had taken to such a closeness?

Her behavior when he escorted her to the Gardiners' carriage suggested otherwise. The time for his guests' departure came and Darcy had offered his arm to Elizabeth as they left the room together. There was no question that the gaze she bestowed upon him then was full of some sentiment of admiration. For one brief moment, they shared a look of reverence not lost on either party until Elizabeth smiled somewhat shyly and looked away.

"I must thank you, again, for allowing me to introduce you to my sister," Darcy murmured rather softly, feeling bereft of her gaze.

"I thank you for the introduction," she replied, eyes cast down, though still smiling. "Miss Darcy is a very accomplished and sweet-natured girl; I would consider myself very fortunate to call her a friend." They stopped by the carriage, waiting as Mr. Gardiner handed his wife inside.

"I hope our paths cross again very soon, Miss Bennet," Darcy said, his voice now very low as he reclaimed her gaze with feeling. She hung on one breath before replying, "As do I, Mr. Darcy." Her hand was in his again, squeezing his fingers with an unmistakeable tenderness and she lingered once more as she climbed up the one step into her seat.

"Good evening, Mr. Gardiner, Mrs. Gardiner." He nodded his head politely to both, and then with one last repressed look of hope, he bowed his head lower and said, "Good evening, Miss Elizabeth." He could see in the darkness, by the dim light illuminating the passengers, that Elizabeth had turned to watch him as they drove off, her position unmoving as they disappeared behind the pines. That last look had snapped the only remaining string of resistance in him; he could no longer hold back the hope he now very dangerously indulged in wholly. No, she had not gone through these last two days unmoved.

The increasing temptation was maddening; she was to leave this part of the country the day after tomorrow, and then when would he see her again? He had no business in Hertfordshire, it would be insupportable to write to her himself, what other choice did he have? Could he let her leave without renewing himself, without at least knowing how her feelings now stood? He made his silent resolution, knowing he absolutely could not.


	5. Chapter 5

_I apologize this update took a little longer than I intended it to. In truth, I had a little bit of difficulty conveying what I wanted to in this chapter. I will most likely come back to it in the future to play around with it a little more, however, I wanted to give you all at least this little something to add to what I've put up already. I have stronger ideas for my next chapters, just a matter of connecting the dots. I thank you for your constructive criticisms and helpful reviews!_

* * *

There was no time wasted the next morning; Mr. Darcy rose early to breakfast alone, bade a brief good morning to his sister and guests when they all descended from their slumbers, and with his horse readily prepared on the drive, he was en route to Lambton before nine o'clock. He had doubt in his mind, for he could not allow himself to be ignorant of the inevitability that Elizabeth did not love him – no, he did not expect her love, but he hoped above all else that she at least thought better of him, that somehow he had shown himself to be a true gentleman in her eyes. Her's was the only opinion he held above all others. It pained him to go on in the world knowing that Miss Elizabeth Bennet still thought ill of him. The only person he had ever felt any true attachment to, and he had done her the most injustice – he was determined to tell her how absolutely right she was and foremost, apologize for being everything but a gentleman. Should he renew his addresses, he was most likely to be refused yet again... but what if she did not turn him away? As vivid as the image of her rejection was the image of her acceptance, smiling as she formed the word 'yes' upon her lips. He would not hesitate to then gather her to him, enclose her in his cradling arms, kiss her hair, then finally with great tenderness, he would kiss her full, flushed lips. The thought was too bittersweet; there was no promise of what kind of response he would receive, but he knew he had to tell her once and for all – he could not live with himself if he did not.

He came upon the inn, handing his horse to the waiting footman, and went in directly, asking after Miss Elizabeth Bennet. No words could do justice the pain of the knot tied tightly in his chest as he followed behind a servant, how dry he suddenly felt his throat and the increased pounding of his heart only added to his discomfort. He dared to believe he had the slightest bit of a chance she thought well of him, perhaps even well enough to consider him-

"Excuse me, Miss," the servant announced them as they entered the sitting room, interrupting his thoughts. Darcy bowed before he looked up to see his dearest, loveliest Elizabeth – cheeks furiously flushed, lips pursed shut, and tears beginning to pool in her eyes.

"Forgive me, sir," she began after the servant had disappeared, "I must find my aunt and uncle on business that cannot be delayed!" She started to move for the door.

"Good God; what is the matter?" Darcy could not help himself exclaiming as he took one long stride toward her – she was in absolute distress. "I would not wish to delay you a moment, but let the servant go and fetch them-" he hesitated before adding, "or let me go."

"No, I must see to them-" she began to cry more, determined to move past him. Darcy took her arm and prevented her passage to the door.

"Please, I absolutely insist!" He led her to sit in a large chair by the window and allowed her a moment before asking, "In which direction did your aunt and uncle walk, Miss Bennet?"

"The church," she breathed her reply. He left her side only a moment to see to the servant fetching Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner and then he was urgently back by her side, pulling another chair close to her as he placed his hat on the end table and took both her hands in his.

"You are not well; may I not call a doctor?" he asked, struggling to keep his overwhelming emotion out of his tone.

"No, thank you, sir," Elizabeth sniffled a smiling reply, giving his hands a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "I am well."

"Is there not anything I can do for your present relief? A glass of wine; could I get you one?"

"No, sir, truly I am well, I am well." She took the handkerchief he offered her after reluctantly releasing her hands. "I have only been distressed by some terrible news I have just received." He watched her as she bravely composed herself, his gaze intense and, he thought surely, displayed his distress in seeing her thus. It was one of the most heartbreaking things he had ever witnessed; Elizabeth's squared little shoulders trembling as she breathed deeply to prevent more tears. She would not yet meet his gaze as she whispered, "Please, do forgive me."

"Oh, no, Miss Bennet..." he assured her, trailing off, undecided how to continue. He remained silent. After another deep breath, she lifted her chin and matched his gaze with eyes overflowing.

"I've just had a letter from my sister, Jane. Our sister, Lydia, has run away... w-with Mr. Wickham." Darcy let the name ring in his ears, his emotions running wild, but now in brazen hatred. Wickham was, yet again, compromising the lives of innocent people. Wickham, who single-handedly tried to bring shame upon him and everything he held dear, who had mistreated his sister so unforgivably... And now, his habits were repeating themselves, this time succeeding in disappearing with his prey. "She has no money, no connections... I fear she is lost forever."

"But has anything been done to recover her?" The anger in Darcy's tone was not lost as he stood and began an agitated pace.

"They have been traced as far as London, but not beyond. My father has gone in search of them, and I expect my uncle will aid him in his efforts. But what could be done? I know very well that nothing can be done. How is such a man..." she trailed off, her voice weak. "How are they ever to be discovered?" Darcy looked to her then; her head hung and shoulders rounding, he gazed upon her in agony as she wept silently, hardly murmuring a sound. His anger almost completely forgotten for the moment, all he could do was watch. He could hardly bear it – oh, if but he could only hold her just for a moment and calm her with soft hushes and gentle, reassuring caresses. He would reach for her hands, lift a gentle finger to wipe away the tears from her cheek, and calmly as he could, entreat her that all would be well, for he would vow to put it all to right himself to just see her smile once more at him – he would put it all to right himself even if their paths never crossed again. It was too intolerable to think of, never again having the pleasure of being near her, looking into her eyes, touching her skin... but he struggled to repress that dreadful reality as he contemplated what to do next.

He related to her his regret that she would not return to his home that day to call on Georgiana, to which she insisted he apologize to his sister on her account for being unable to see her. With utmost apprehension, he insisted he had stayed too long and that she must desire his absence. Taking a low, lingering bow, he heard her soft voice strain to say, "Goodbye, Mr. Darcy." He straightened to see her curtsy and took one last look into her eyes, hopefully conveying all he wished to express, before turning forcefully and exiting the room.


	6. Surprise Update

Hello! It has been an age and a day, but I have returned! I finally have a computer of my own, so I can _finally_ write/edit/post at my leisure. That being said, I have a lot to catch up on. There are many pages of writing to be typed up from my notebook. I hope I haven't disappointed too many of you, or kept you in too much suspense - it's been a little over a year since I've visited this story, so I may or may not be making changes to it. I want to continue with this, and I am always open to hearing suggestions about what all of you would like to read most. Thank you so much to those who have stuck around!


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